I'm Looking Through You
by Divine Sally Bowles
Summary: Pre-S5. Nathan has just left the hospital a broken man, and Haley is just hoping he'll recover. Little does she know that his problems are just beginning, as self-medication and denial are just around the corner. Rating just in case.
1. Blame

**A/N- Hi, everyone! This is my return to fanfiction after a hiatus of a few years, and while I do have a story for another fandom left unfinished, I'm hoping to re-enter the world of fanfiction with this story. I don't know how long it will be; this was just in my head for weeks and I wanted to get it out. This is a pre-Season 5 story taking place in the immediate aftermath of Nathan's accident, and it will hopefully cover his drinking and emotional estrangement from Haley and Jamie.**

**I've never done any OTH fanfiction before, so I'm anxious about how this one turned out, given my obsessive love for Nathan and Haley. That being said, I would very much appreciate reviews and feedback-I'm terrified of getting Nathan and Haley wrong! I strive for accuracy in my characterizations and since this is my first effort for this fandom, I'm still getting a feel for them. The updates for this might not be regular, but I will work as hard and diligently as I can if you guys like this one.**

**Read and review if you are so inclined; it would be much obliged!**

I'm Looking Through You

I.

Blame

It had been a struggle just getting him into the car. She'd never labored under the delusion it would be easy—hell no. She'd known this was going to kill him inside. She'd known since the very first phone call.

But pretending made it easier. Sometimes she didn't even do it consciously. She'd fall asleep in one of the hospital chairs dreaming of the better days—the early days of their relationship, or the first year or two they'd had at college in Maryland. Waking up was the hardest part. She would wake up expecting things to be different, and the part that sucked the most was that they never were.

Blaming herself was something she tried not to do, but it all came back to what she knew had set him off. Lucas had told her about how it had started. He hadn't wanted to, but she'd made him, had demanded the details that night, that god-awful night.

_She'd been too keyed up to sleep herself. She'd only just put Jamie down, and she was waiting up for Nathan. He always told her she didn't have to, but Haley always responded that she wanted to. She trusted him not to drink too much, and she knew Lucas looked out for him and played designated driver, but they'd both been drinking tonight. He'd promised to take the limo if they got too trashed, but she just wanted to wait up for him._

_Her resolve on that one was weakening, though. She had relieved the sitter, who hadn't been able to get Jamie to sleep, and she'd had to read him two and half different stories before he had, with all the voices. It was a little exhausting. She was nodding off in front of one of those late night infomercials when her phone vibrating snapped her out of it._

_As the TV presenter told her that these were the only knives she'd ever need, Haley picked up the phone and answered drowsily. "Hello?"_

_She didn't take in the background noise. It was chaotic, loud, the sirens blaring and nearly drowning Lucas out. To her sleep-deprived mind, it just sounded like normal background noise, like loud music at a bar like the one they'd been at earlier._

"_Hales? Hales, you have to meet us at Tree Hill General. There's… been an accident."_

_That made her sit upright, tossing the blanket to the floor as she fumbled to find her shoes and keys. "What happened? You or Nate?"_

"_It's—you—you should just get down here, Hales—"_

"_Lucas, tell me right now! You or Nate?"_

_But she knew. She knew because he was the one making the call; she knew because he hadn't said it. They always told each other everything, so whatever he couldn't tell her had to be bad._

"_He went through a window. He got in a fight and they threw him into a window. He can't… walk, Hales. The paramedics really think you should get down here…"_

"_I'm coming. I'm—I'm coming."_

Haley James Scott had a crisis autopilot. It was just how she dealt with these things sometimes. It came from growing up in such a large family. Accidents were bound to happen—people were bound to get hurt. She'd seen enough cuts and broken bones as a kid that she didn't freak out seeing them in her adult life. Moms at the playground marveled at her grace under pressure. It was those instincts that had gotten her through life, like on the day of the shooting, when she'd made the 911 call and managed to tell the dispatcher Jimmy's name, their location, the number of hostages. Grace under pressure.

But she most certainly hadn't been graceful that night. That night had been hell. She'd sprinted to one of the next door neighbors, asking if they could please go over and watch Jamie. Maybe it was the tears thick in her voice, maybe it was her desperation, but they'd agreed. She had promised to come back in the morning and explain to Jamie why Momma wasn't there, and then she'd bolted. Gotten into the car, fumbled with the seatbelt, driven like a madwoman to the Tree Hill General E.R., where she found Lucas waiting. She pushed back the thoughts of the last time they'd been here before Jamie's birth, the day of her and Nathan's vow renewal. She pushed them back, or tried to. Her fears now were the same as they had been then—that he wouldn't be okay, that he wouldn't make it through this.

"_What happened?" she'd asked, demanding tearfully to hear it even as Lucas pulled her into his arms, even as she beat her fists ineffectually into his chest. She wanted to say something, to scream—why hadn't he stopped him? What hadn't he done?—but she knew very well that nothing stopped Nathan when he got like that. His temper was one of the very few things that had never changed about him. "How bad is it? Did they say?"_

"_There were some guys at the bar trying to get a rise out of him. He was doing fine, I mean, he was walking away, we were gonna get home until one of them said…"_

_He trailed off, and she pulled away from the embrace, looking up at him and wiping fiercely at the tears running down her cheeks. She couldn't do this. She had to be calm. "One of them said what?"_

"_You're not gonna like it…"_

"_Lucas, just tell me what they said! Nothing is gonna make this worse, all right? Nothing you can say is going to make this worse, so just tell me!"_

"_One of them told Nathan he should've… left with his fatass wife, and he punched him. It got bad and they went through a window. There was glass in his spine; he couldn't feel his legs…"_

_She couldn't feel hers, now. She sank down into one of the waiting room chairs, remembering just a few years ago, lying here in her dirtied wedding dress, waiting. She'd felt guilty then, too. If only she'd stopped him from jumping into the water. Now, tonight, all that was going through her head was that she wished she wasn't his weak spot. He would always defend her, would always try and protect her. It was what had driven him into the school the day of the shooting. It was the one thing she'd always told him he never had to do._

_But here they were, and here they'd been before._

She blamed herself for that, though she knew it was pointless. She blamed herself for being the cause of the remark that had made him snap. She blamed herself for leaving that night. She blamed herself for not doing more to curb his temper, to stop him from reacting to every insult leveled against her. Too little, too late.

Haley looked over to the passenger seat, where he was sitting. They'd gone through the whole process earlier, the process they'd be doing for at least the next few months, from what the doctor had told them. She'd gotten him out of the wheelchair, helping him into the car, though he'd tried his damnedest to struggle against it. He didn't want to be the weak one. He didn't want to be helped, and it was killing her to see it. He'd fought her, never hitting out, never hurting her physically, but insisting he could do it, ignoring her when she told him he couldn't really try. He'd resigned himself when he'd finally realized it was useless to fight.

He'd dozed off now, lulled by the rain against the windshield and the rhythm of the wipers, dazed from the pain medication. That was one thing that worried her—medication. Deb's struggles with prescription pill abuse were never far from her mind. She had an addictive personality, and those things were genetic. She worried about Nathan and these pills. She worried about a lot of things.

Haley pulled into her driveway and shut off the car, needing to give herself a few minutes before it all started up again. She knew what she'd see in the house. Lucas was there with Jamie, had been keeping him occupied all day, trying to explain to a four year old what it would be like to have Daddy so hurt. There would be visitors throughout the next couple days. Deb was coming by tomorrow, and Mouth, Junk, and Fergie had promised to help out with Jamie. She'd called Brooke and Peyton and told them what had happened, but both of them had their own lives and jobs now—they couldn't drop everything to come out, and she knew that. They'd both promised to try and come if they could, but she didn't expect much.

She reached over, shaking Nathan's shoulder as gently as she could. "Nathan. Nathan, we're home…"

He opened his eyes, went to open the car door and get out, before he stopped himself. He couldn't get out on his own. It was one of the adjustments they were going to have to learn to make over the next few months.

He didn't say anything as she helped him out of the car and into the wheelchair, didn't fight her this time. As she wheeled him up the drive and into the house, she breathed a shuddery sigh, turning her face to the sky for a moment, feeling the rain run down her face.

"_What are you thinking?"_

"_Nothing. Just praying for rain."_

They'd come back from that time, she told herself. They'd been struggling, they'd been hurting, they'd worked through it.

She took the rain as a good omen, as a sign things would be okay. With that in mind, she wheeled him into the house.

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**Again, reviews would be much appreciated. I hope to hear from those of you who like Naley angst!**

**- Sally.**


	2. Denial

**A/N - Hi again, everyone! I'm so grateful for the ecstatic response this got; it's nice to meet those of you I didn't ask to read this fic personally! I had initially only planned for this to be from Haley's point of view, but after I saw kaya17tj's remark about Nathan's POV, I decided to work from his perspective as well. It will hopefully go back and forth every other chapter.**

**Remember, this is my first OTH fic, so if there is anything you feel can be done better or made to be more in tune with the characters, I am all ears. There also might be continuity errors re: the canon of the show, so if I make any of those, most definitely let me know! I appreciate every review I've gotten so far; thank you all so much!**

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II.

Denial

He'd done this before, probably more times than any person should have to. There'd been the time he'd left the hospital after collapsing on the court, when he'd made his way to Haley's house and begged to stay. There'd been the time after his accident in the racecar, when he'd limped in on crutches. Then there had been coming back to the apartment with Haley after the limo crash, when he'd shown her the new mural.

Nathan had come out of hospitals a few times through the years. He'd always taken it for granted that he'd be able to walk out of the hospital, to get back to his normal life—_walk_ being the operative word. Now he didn't even have that.

He'd had to spend a few days in the hospital so that the doctors could make sure he was healing. Trauma, that was the technical term for it, the one he'd heard tossed around by all the experts who came in to talk with him, or the ones who stood in the hallway with Haley to give her the bad news. He thought trauma was a good word for it. It was definitely traumatic when you realized that everything you'd worked towards could be gone.

He had seen more than his share of injuries that ruined careers. There had been guys at Tree Hill High or in college who'd fall the wrong way and have it all be over. Hell, he'd seen Lucas have to give it up and start coaching. Though Lucas never really said it, preferred not to dwell on it, he knew it wasn't the same for him. Nothing else could ever compare to the rush of playing, to being on that court.

Haley had tried to get him to talk over the past couple days. She tried not to be angry, but he knew she was. He knew she was trying not to ask how he'd been so stupid, how he'd let them get to him when he had so much to lose. Never mind that _this_ had happened—there could have been other injuries. He could've broken his hand by punching the guy. At this point, Nathan wished that was all that had happened.

She was trying. That much he could give her. She was trying, but she'd never really understand. Singing was what she did, and that was something that really couldn't be taken from her. And even if it was, it wouldn't matter—she had so many other things she was good at. She was his wife, she was a good mother, she was finally on her way to becoming a teacher. But for him, this was all he had. Basketball was all he was good at, his only way to provide for his family. _What now?_ were the only words on his mind.

Haley leaned back against the front door until it opened, wheeling him inside. A banner made of construction paper, scribbled on with crayons, was taped up in the living room. _Welcome Home, Daddy!_ Jamie was sitting in the living room with Lucas, still coloring, when he heard the front door opening. He got up before Lucas could stop him, barreling towards them. "Momma! Daddy!"

Nathan had refused to let Haley bring him to the hospital. She'd fought him, tried to tell him that Jamie was scared and just needed to see he was okay, but he'd refused to let his soon see him the way he had been. It was bad enough to be in this goddamn wheelchair. He was supposed to be his son's hero, was supposed to be strong. He didn't want Jamie to see him like this.

"Daddy, I made you a picture," Jamie said, tugging lightly at the leg of his jeans and putting the piece of paper in his lap, looking confusedly at Haley when Nathan didn't respond. Haley crouched to his level, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Jamie, honey, Daddy's just really tired. You can see him in the morning, okay? Right now he just needs to sleep."

"Yeah, Jimmy-Jam, Daddy needs to go to sleep," Lucas said, standing on the threshold to the living room. "Just like you do. Come upstairs; I'll tell you a story."

That got Jamie up the stairs and into his room, talking excitedly to Lucas. Haley closed her eyes momentarily and got back to her feet, taking him into one of the guest rooms on the lower floor. She couldn't get him up the stairs like this, so he'd be sleeping there rather than in their bedroom.

She helped him into the bed, taking Jamie's drawing and putting it on the nightstand. She stood there for a few moments, waiting for him to say something, fumbling for a question when he didn't. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"Do you know how to go back to last week? That would be great."

Haley sighed, sitting on the end of the bed, reaching out to put her hand on his leg before it occurred to her that he wouldn't feel it if she did. She pulled her hand back, setting it awkwardly in her lap. "Nathan, no one ever said this would be easy. I'm trying so hard to be here for you, but you have to give me a little here. You can't change what happened. I can't. No one can. Sitting here regretting it isn't going to do you any good. You just have to get up and face the day and work to recover."

"And what's there gonna be when I do, Hales? Did you ever even think of that? What am I supposed to do without basketball?"

At that, Haley got up, shaking her head and sighing in frustration. "You don't even see it. You just can't see beyond yourself, can you? There's more to your life than basketball, Nathan. You'd think this would've made you realize it."

She walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her and leaving him in the darkness.

His mind was still addled from the painkillers and the rage he still felt whenever he thought back on the bar fight. He tried not to think of it too often, but that was all it came back to. When he tired of coming up with other scenarios, with ways he could have walked away, he found himself thinking back to his other mistakes. There were plenty of those to focus on.

He remembered bringing Haley home from the hospital in their senior year, after she'd been in the accident with Daunte—the accident that was his fault. He remembered being amazed at her strength and forbearance—her ability to want to forgive Daunte and reach out to his family, even after she'd nearly died because of him. He tried feeling that now, but he couldn't. He couldn't feel anything but a strong desire to believe this wasn't happening to him.

Denying it, imagining what could have happened if he had walked away, made things seem so much better. Denying it allowed him to believe that he'd been the tenth draft pick for the Sonics just as his agent had promised. If he'd walked away, he would've been drafted the next day, would have gotten to live the dream he'd always had as a kid. Sure, it had been the thing Dan had pushed him towards, but in the years since he'd been emancipated and gotten married, in the years since Dan had gone to prison, he'd truly come to believe that the NBA was what he wanted. He wanted to play basketball professionally; he wanted to be the best man he could for his family.

He wanted the world for his wife and son, and now his only means of giving them that was gone.

He reached over to pick up the drawing Jamie had made. He found that it was a rough stick figure drawing of himself, Haley, Jamie, Lucas, and Chester, Jamie's rabbit. He'd written "The Scotts" across the top of the page in his messy four-year-old scrawl. Seeing the drawing, thinking of what he'd lost, made him think of the words Haley had spoken to him just before.

"_There's more to your life than basketball, Nathan. You'd think this would've made you realize it."_

He had his family. He wasn't stupid; he recognized that. He knew he was lucky to have that. But as long as he was injured, he couldn't be there for them. He couldn't be the father, the husband, the brother he wanted to be. _Needed_ to be. He couldn't be there for them, couldn't provide for them. And that made him lower than Dan, in his own estimation, because say what you will about Dan Scott and all the things he'd done, but he'd always provided for Nathan and Deb.

There was truly nothing left.

So this had to be what they called rock bottom.


	3. Support

**A/N - This is a shorter chapter and all Laley, but I'm hoping that it captures their dynamic! (I've realized how much I miss their friendship!) I've been so happy to hear from all of you and I've appreciated every review. I'd like to pimp out the story of a friend of mine-my friend, under the username breathingslow, has posted a great AU Leyton story that you all should check out! It's her first OTH fanfic as well, so she would really appreciate it!**

**To answer the question posed to me by kayla17tj, no, I don't think this story will include Carrie-honestly, I'd be too frustrated to write from Nathan's POV at that point! :) I'm thinking that I will stop it at around 5x03 or 5x04. I also tried to address why Haley snapped at him so soon (mostly because she was tired and frustrated by his not responding to Jamie). I hope you all enjoy!**

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III.

Support

Haley stared into the coffee mug with a sense of resignation, picturing the next few months. She'd asked the doctors if there was anything she could do. They had tried to make it seem like there was, but she had gotten the drift—there really wasn't. She could help him through physical therapy, but how much could she really _do_?

A hand on her shoulder startled her out of her thoughts. Lucas. He joined her on a stool at the kitchen counter. "You really should get some sleep," he told her. "I can keep Jamie busy tomorrow."

"I slept at the hospital. I'm fine." She ignored the look Lucas gave her at that one—she knew what he would say. She most certainly was not fine. Deflecting, she asked, "Jamie's asleep?"

"Yeah, he passed out about fifteen minutes ago."

"Was he upset Nathan didn't say anything? Did he seem okay?"

It manifested in different ways for each of them, but she and Nathan had the same desire in all of this—to protect Jamie. Nathan hadn't wanted Jamie to see him at the hospital, and Haley didn't want him to see Nathan so closed off.

"Maybe he was a little upset, but he was still talking, still seemed happy. For now, I wouldn't worry."

Haley nodded, taking a sip of the coffee. She waited for Lucas to say it. "How is he?"

"Angry." She ran her fingers through her hair. "He still wants to think this isn't happening. He's still adjusting. Not to say that I'm not, but you know it'll be harder on him. And I think of Deb and how she handled things, and it just… scares me." She scrubbed her face with her hands. "Am I crazy?"

"No, you're not. You're being realistic about it. That's how you've always been."

"How did you do it?" Haley asked, finally looking up at him. "How did you deal with giving it up?"

Sometimes, when she thought back on their senior year, she wondered if she'd paid enough attention to him during that time. She'd been so consumed by other worries—Keith's death and Karen and Lucas' grief, her vow renewal, and then the possibility and, later, reality of her pregnancy—that Lucas giving up basketball had been the last thing on her mind.

"Coaching helped, eventually. Whitey kept me busy. Nothing else might ever really compare to it for him. But I think he'll come out of it okay. He won't do to Jamie what Dan did to him—push Jamie to do what he can't."

"I would never think he would do that," Haley admitted. "I don't want to think he can. I want to have faith in him… I _do_ have faith in him. I know he can get past this. I just don't know if he knows it yet. I kind of snapped on him before… I was just upset that he ignored Jamie and I said something I probably shouldn't have. I'm hoping he'll come through this. I'm hoping _we'll_ come through this."

She'd said more than she meant to, but that was the thing when it came to Lucas—she never felt the need to hold back or spare him the details. He was pretty much her brother—with all of hers so much older than her, they'd never been around to the extent that Lucas had, and she was always truly grateful for his presence in her life. She felt that gratitude again when he reached out and put his hand on hers. After all these years, he didn't need to vocalize the reassurance. She gave him a weak smile in response.

As she kept sipping at her coffee, he spoke again. "Lindsey said she'd come out for the weekend, help out around here if you need her to."

"Thank her for me. I'm sure Jamie will like to see her."

"Did you call your family?"

"I talked to my mom and dad, and I told Vivian when she called a few days ago. She said she'd tell Quinn and maybe Taylor, if she can get a hold of her, and I'm sure it'll trickle down to the rest of them eventually. I called Brooke and Peyton, too."

There was an Alanis Morissette lyric she'd associated with Lucas in the past few years: _"Soon I'll grow up and I won't even flinch at your name."_ And she had to give him credit—Peyton's name no longer made him have a visible reaction. She knew he still thought of her—she'd been such a big part of his life that it was inevitable. He'd been trying to forget their relationship, trying to move on, but Haley knew there'd always be something there.

"Either of them coming out?"

"No, Brooke's in the middle of rolling out some new designs and Peyton said her boss is horrible about giving time off. They sent their love, though." She raked her hands through her hair.

"Are you sure you don't want me to call my mom? You know she'd come out here."

"No, no. She's halfway across the world. I can deal with this; it's just… tough. Thank you, though." She gave him another smile, this one more genuine. "You've been such a huge help lately, with Jamie and everything else… I wouldn't be holding up if it wasn't for you."

"And this wouldn't have happened if I'd gotten him to walk away that night. I owe it to you guys to be here, Hales."

"Luke… you can't be blaming yourself for this. It's not your fault." She said this despite being perfectly content to keep blaming herself.

"You can't tell me there's not things we could have done differently. This didn't have to happen."

"Of course it didn't. And I'm not saying I haven't spent the last few days thinking about if I'd stayed, or if he'd come with me. But we can't do this, Luke. We can't dwell on the past. We just… we just have to be here for him."

She was trying to get back that strength she normally had in a crisis, because she knew she'd sure as hell need it. Whatever pain she was going through, whatever regrets she had, she just had to deal with them, to shut them away and be there for her husband. _In sickness and in health_. Those were the vows. They'd been there for each other through injuries before, through the dark times and the pain. This was nothing they hadn't gotten through before. At least, that was what she tried to tell herself.

"Do you need me to stay here? Lindsey and me can take Jamie for a few days, even. Give you a break. Might be tough for you to try and handle both of them."

"I'm a mom, Lucas. I've been 'handling the both of them' for four years now," she said, with a slight grin at the memories. "Makes me think of your mom with you and Keith."

Lucas smiled some, remembering. Just as he no longer reacted to Peyton's name, it no longer seemed to pain him to think of Keith. For the first few months after Dan had gone to prison, none of them had mentioned Keith, not wanting to reopen the still-fresh wound caused by learning what Dan had done. It had just made Lucas angry, and Nathan had refused to mention it at all, not wanting to bring up the man they'd claimed was dead to their son. Dan had taken Keith from them in more than one way.

"She used to hate it when we came in from playing basketball together. We'd be sweaty and gross and she would tell me that next time, she'd make me do the laundry. But I'd always find her smiling when she did it."

"Sounds like Karen to me." Haley drained the last of her coffee. "I hope I can be half as good a mom to Jamie as she was to you."

"Am I even hearing you right now? You're a great mom, Hales. And you'll keep being great. You're already working so hard to keep things normal for Jamie. I'll be here to help, and Nathan will get back to himself soon. You just gotta give him time. That was how it was for me. It took a while for me to adjust, but I did. He'll work through it."

"Well, if I know Nathan, I know he doesn't let anything stop him. I'm sure he'll be raring to walk before the doctors give their approval." She got up to put the coffee mug in the sink. "It's getting late; you should get home."

"And I meant it when I said you should sleep." He pointed a finger at her as he got up, gathering up his jacket and keys. "If not, I'm just going to have to sedate you."

"I'd like to see you try." She laughed, then realized it was the first time she'd done that in the past week or so. It felt foreign and strange already. As he was about to leave, she called after him. "Lucas?"

"Yeah?"

She walked up to him quickly, hugging him tightly, knowing she didn't need to say it.

He touched his chin to the top of her head briefly, touching her cheek as he pulled away. "You're welcome, Hales. You're welcome."


	4. Anger

**A/N - Hi again, all! Many apologies that it's been two weeks since the last update; I'm a college student who had midterms to cope with. Anyway, I'm back now and hopefully I'll be updating at a regular pace again. If you all haven't seen them, I've written two more Naley oneshots, "Breathe Me" and "Can't Sleep, Clowns Will Eat Me." I've also got quite a few more OTH fic ideas in my head, so I will be writing a lot in the coming months!**

**To all those who asked, yes, there will be more Laley, primarily because Lucas probably was her primary support system at that time, and she definitely needs him. I'm so glad you all like the way I've characterized everyone and that I've gotten so much positive feedback. It really means a lot to me!**

**I hope you all enjoy and that you can forgive me for being late on the update. Look out for more chapters coming soon, and some new fics for other couples! Please review, and have a nice night!**

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IV.

Anger

He wouldn't admit to feeling anything, if people asked. It was easier to pretend he felt nothing, that he was apathetic rather than just pathetic. It was one of those questions you always got asked by the doctors, the analysts, the people seeking to understand—_"And how do you feel about that?"_

Haley was one of those people who wanted to understand. In the two weeks since he'd come home from the hospital, she'd been trying so hard to get through to him. She was one of the ones who wanted to know how he felt. He supposed he would have been the same way—he was so used to knowing how she was feeling that the times he couldn't read her were rare. _"You think I need to see you with my eyes to know what's going on with you?"_ he'd asked her once. He never had needed to, and the reverse had always been true as well.

For the most part, they'd always been honest with each other. They'd learned over the years what dishonesty could lead to, and it had nearly torn them apart a few times. If he'd had the foresight to see it, he would have realized that now was turning into one of those times.

Haley couldn't read him this time because he wasn't _letting_ her read him. Any emotions he had, he kept bottled up, hoping that it would ease the mental pain the way the painkillers did for the physical. All it did was make him feel it more, make him think on it constantly. All he found himself feeling was anger.

Nathan's temper had always been somewhat of an issue while he'd been growing up. Coaches had had to bench him a few times in order to stop him from picking fights. He could get pissed off, and he vented that type of emotion physically. He picked fights, he shot hoops to blow off steam, he went running. Things like that. A psychiatrist would tell him that these were his outlets for his temper.

None of these outlets would work for him now that he couldn't walk. There was a saying he'd thought of when Haley had left him—_you don't miss your water until your well runs dry._ That was definitely the case here. The use of his legs had been something he had taken for granted. He'd never thought it could be taken away from him, that it could all be gone so quickly because of that damn temper. And yet here he was, stuck.

His temper had gotten him into this, taken away the things he took for granted. Everyone always told him, Whitey in particular, that if he wasn't careful, if he didn't rein himself in, it wouldn't end well.

The two weeks since he'd come home from the hospital had been a parade of family, friends, and neighbors. Jamie spent some days with Lucas and Lindsey, others with Mouth, Junk, and Fergie. Neighbors came by with food and empty promises to Haley to call them if she needs _anything_. Haley's oldest sister, Vivian, came by for a few days, and he heard her on the phone with Lydia and Jimmy every few nights. There was no one who wasn't concerned for him.

Haley was doing her best. She was cooking, cleaning, teaching, keeping Jamie occupied. He had no idea how she managed all those things, and in the back of his mind he knew he should be helping. Still, he made no move to—he was next to useless without his legs.

He was sitting on the living room couch one afternoon, watching an old basketball game on ESPN Classics. The door opened and he looked up, seeing Haley come in carrying some paper bags. She looked more tired than usual. He sometimes heard her still awake at all hours, making lesson plans or reading in the living room.

She walked over to the couch and leaned down, kissing the top of his head and reaching over the couch, putting a paper bag in his lap. "I went and got your favorites," she said, holding the bag open so he could see inside. "From that burger place we went to with Jamie a while back? I remember how much you liked it…"

She was trying; he'd give her that. He mumbled a thanks to placate her. He knew that she wouldn't be able to stay long—this was her lunch break, and she had to get back to the school soon. Still, she sat down on the other end of the couch and opened her own bag, taking out a salad. Haley had always been the one who ate healthy; cereal shopping with her had the potential to become a minor battle.

She looked towards the TV, watched it for a minute before she recognized it as a basketball game. A basket went in and the spectators went crazy. "You shouldn't be torturing yourself like this," she said after a minute, looking back at him. "The doctor said dwelling on it can set you back, make you recover slower than you would have…"

"You don't believe that crap, do you? That _positive thinking_ or any of that can do anything?"

"Nathan, it's worth it to believe in something," Haley protested, sighing. "Why do you insist on being so pessimistic whenever anyone tries to give you some shred of hope?"

"Because I've seen the statistics, Haley. You hear about it all the time when players get hurt. I've seen this happen in the pros and to guys I knew. You don't recover from this."

"So all the examples you saw haven't, but don't you want to be the one who at least tried? The doctors said this could be temporary. You just have to want to get better—"

"And you think I don't? Do you honestly think I don't want to get better? You don't understand, Haley," he said, the one phrase he has probably repeated far too often these past few weeks, because she _doesn't_ get it. How could she? "Even if I do walk again, it's done. I can't play again. It's over. Maybe I can coach some half-assed kiddie team, but that's it. If I do get better, Haley, there's nothing I can do."

"You can find something," Haley tried, putting the salad aside and reaching out to grab his hand. "Nathan, if you just work at it, you can find something else. This doesn't have to be the end of the world!"

"Well, it is. Okay, Haley? It is for me."

It was almost the same argument they had the night he'd come home from the hospital, the one they would be having for weeks to come. They'd probably never see eye-to-eye on it, anyway. He knew she would be upset by it, but what was he supposed to do? Pretend to be all positive and peppy about something that probably wouldn't happen, only to have to act disappointed later when the expectations he'd never wanted to have in the first place were dashed? No.

Haley got up, seemingly unable or unwilling to respond, just as she had been every time they'd argued about it in the past two weeks. She took her purse and slung it over her shoulder again, combing her fingers through her hair. She changed her tactic, made a peace offering. "I thought we could go out to dinner with Jamie tonight. He's been with Luke and the others so much lately that I just thought it would be nice for the three of us to go out…"

The logical part of his mind knew he was supposed to say yes. He was supposed to be the dad he'd been before the accident, the husband who didn't let an argument with his wife reach the point where she simply gave up rather than have the two of them working through it. The logical part of his mind could recognize the hope in her tone, could realize that there was probably a little more of it there than she'd wanted to express.

The part of his mind that had been running his responses lately makes him give a noncommittal answer, though they both know the dinner won't happen. Haley bit her lip and moved to the door. And as horrible as he had been recently, the more rational part of his mind took over for an instant, making him feel badly for the way he'd just treated her. He reached out, holding up the container with the salad she'd abandoned. "You're forgetting…?"

She looked at him for a moment, and he could almost feel her trying to get a read on him, to understand how he could go from angry one minute to the husband she knew the next. The confusion on her face didn't completely fade, but it lessened a bit as she walked back to the couch, leaning in to take the salad and then kissing his cheek. She touched her cheek to his for a second, taking a slow breath. "We're gonna get through this," she whispered, then walked away.


	5. Hope

**A/N: First off, you guys, I have an excessive amount of apologies for how long it's taken to update this. I didn't forget about it, but I became severely and utterly stalled and stuck for ideas until about three days ago. I can't promise it won't happen again, but for now, I will promise at least semi-regular updates if I can manage them, and I hope you all forgive me!**

**I don't lay any sort of claim to the lyrics of Sheryl Crow's "I Shall Believe" that are used in this chapter!**

* * *

V.

Hope

As much as she didn't want to admit it to herself, she still had the tiniest spark of hope in her heart, the hope that Nathan could just snap out of it somehow and go back to being the man—the husband, the father, the brother—she knew he was. She still had the hope that one day he'd wake up and just be fine again.

Of course, she knew it didn't work that way. He still had rehab to go through, and beyond that, who even knew if he'd be able to walk again? She tried to put on the optimistic front for him, but God's honest truth was that she was scared out of her mind that this was _it_ for him.

The dinner had _almost_ happened. Once she'd gotten home from work, Nathan had seemed like he regretted about the way he'd snapped at her earlier. Giving her the salad had been one thing, but properly apologizing was another. Maybe he couldn't work up the words, but he could agree to her request and try and put on a brave face, for Jamie's sake as much as anyone else's.

She'd honestly been surprised at how bad he'd seemed to feel, and she almost hated herself for that, the way she could doubt him so easily these days. She didn't want to, but recently, it was easier and easier to expect that the worst would happen, that he'd lost all hope and didn't want to recover.

So it was a bit of a shock when she and Jamie came home to find him cleaned up some. He'd shaved—he'd been neglecting that ever since the hospital—and had somehow scrounged up a polo shirt, something nice, one of the rare non-sports-related outfits in his wardrobe. Maybe it was a little fancier than was necessary for a trip to the casual establishments they usually went to, but he was honestly trying, and it relieved the heaviness in her heart the slightest bit.

After another hour or two, once she'd had time to unwind and grade some papers, Jamie had gotten dressed and they'd headed out to a small Italian restaurant. Jamie and Nathan were usually more than satisfied with the pizza, whereas Haley's youthful love for macaroni and cheese had evolved into an appreciation of fettuccine alfredo. They were semi-regulars, and Haley thought the return to routine would be a good thing. If they could do the things they would normally do, maybe it would be like nothing had changed.

Of course, she should have known it wouldn't happen. By now, everyone around town had heard about the accident. Teachers and coaches at Tree Hill High had been approaching Haley to offer a steady stream of condolences. Get well cards came in droves.

But this was the first time Nathan had been out in public since, and she had to bite her lip so she wouldn't say that maybe this hadn't been the greatest idea after all, once she caught wind of the looks.

They'd already ordered and were waiting for their food. Jamie was coloring contentedly on his placemat, and Haley was picking at a breadstick with one hand, as she and Nathan had their fingers twined in a tentative handhold on the table. It was definitely something—she'd reached out to him and he hadn't pulled away. For a second, as she sat there with his hand firmly in hers, the buttery warmth of the breadstick melting in her mouth, she could almost close her eyes and think of this as one of their many high school dates, before financial woes, marriage, rock tours, and a baby.

She heard it before she saw it. Being a mom, being a student teacher, being a musician, it meant her hearing was sharper than most people's. She could hear Jamie calling from her a mile away, she could tell which students were horsing around without turning her back, she could pick out a note that hadn't been tuned properly on a guitar.

She could hear people whispering about her husband.

"Is that him? Nathan Scott? It was all over the news…"

"That's him. It's a damn shame; he was doing so well…"

"Should we say something, you think?"

As well-wishing as the women had been, she'd wanted to turn around, snap at them that they weren't deaf and could hear every word. She'd thought it was only her—prayed the hearing Nathan jokingly called superhuman meant she was the only one who could hear it—but that hope was dashed by the feeling of Nathan's hand tightening in hers.

_Dammit._

Pity was something he'd never wanted, and as much as she wanted to stay, wanted them to have the dinner a normal family would, she knew it would kill him even worse than the injury, hearing the sympathetic noises of two busybodies as they watched him eat his dinner. She made quick arrangements with the wait staff to have their food boxed instead, gathered up Jamie and his crayons, picked him up and held him against her hip as they left the restaurant, Nathan wheeling behind them with the food on his lap.

When they got back to the house, Nathan went into the living room, and Haley sat with Jamie as he ate his pizza, apparently not bothered by their dinner being cut short. When he kept looking in the direction of the living room, Haley gently laid her hand over his. "What's up, Jimmy-Jam?"

"Is Daddy okay?" Jamie asked, once he'd swallowed the last bite of his pizza. "Uncle Lucas says he is, but he's still sad all the time."

She still couldn't think of the right words to explain this to him, and it made her wish for someone to turn to, someone who understood. Normally, she'd call her mother, but Lydia had only been able to offer condolences and vague suggestions on how to deal with the situation. No one she knew could coach her on how to deal with this, how to understand it, so how could she expect her son to understand?

She stroked her fingers over her son's, sighing. "Daddy might be sad for a while, baby. He's having a really hard time. Like you were when Chester was sick a few months ago." Actually, it was nothing like that, but to her son, that had been one of the overarching crises of his young life, and that's the only thing she can compare it to that will make him understand. "We just have to be there for him and love him, okay? It's gonna get better."

Jamie nodded, accepting her words without question, something she knew wouldn't last for much longer, once he got older and found out more about the world. But for now, his mom and dad were the superheroes, the ones with all the answers. She just wished she had more answers to give him.

Once she'd gotten him bathed and put him to bed, she went down to the living room and found Nathan still on the couch. She perched herself on the coffee table, reaching out and touching his face, making him look at her. "I'm sorry, Nathan. About the restaurant… I didn't even think of what people would be saying about…"

"It's not your fault, Hales." He gave a sigh of his own, running his fingers back through his hair. He needed a haircut, she noticed. Noticing little details like that had been one of the things she'd let fall by the wayside after the accident. She felt that, since then, they hadn't truly _looked_ at each other until now.

Abruptly, she stood, reaching her hand out to him. Maybe he couldn't stand, but she could help him. "Here. Come on."

Nathan gave her an _are you kidding?_ look, shaking his head. "I can't, Haley."

"I know. But I'll help you."

She helped him up, and somehow she managed to half-carry him to the bathroom down the hall. She could have taken him in the wheelchair, but she didn't want to, had her reasons why not. She wanted to show him she was willing to help, that he could do these things and not have to be helpless.

When they got to the bathroom, she sat him down on the edge of the bathtub, starting the water and helping him out of his clothes, ignoring him when he asked what she was doing. She stroked her fingers over the scar on his chest, kissing it softly before she got him out of his jeans and boxers, then helped him into the bath as warm water filled the tub.

"My mom used to do this for me whenever I was sick," she said as she got the portable showerhead down and turned it on, wetting his hair. "It helped me. And I don't know if it'll help you, but I've just been thinking, and there's things I have to try. Things _we_ have to try, if we want to get through this."

He nodded, leaning his head back against the edge of the tub as she set the showerhead down and took the shampoo from the side of the tub, working it into his hair. She was pretty sure he'd be objecting to this normally, being bathed like he was a child, but what was important was that he was accepting it now, that she could do some small thing.

After she'd washed his hair, she started on the rest of his body, closing her own eyes after a second and breathing in, fumbling slightly to find the words of a song. She hadn't _really_ sang since years before, singing lullabies to Jamie—it had been so long, but she wanted to break the silence, even if it wasn't the horrible silence of the past few weeks. It was a calm silence, a comfortable one, but quiet was still quiet, and she didn't want that.

Softly, she sang, low and loving, into his ear.

"_Come to me now  
And lay your hands over me  
Even if it's a lie  
Say it will be all right  
And I shall believe…"_

As she opened her eyes again, he was turning his head to look at her, and she leaned her forehead against his, continuing to sing, her breath warm against his lips, though she didn't venture a kiss. _"Broken in two, and I know you're onto me—that I only come home when I'm so all alone, but I do believe…"_

Years before, the two of them had been sitting in Karen's Café, Haley practically shaking in the presence of her idol, Sheryl Crow. One song per cup had been the deal, and after Nathan had snapped the picture Haley had needed to convince herself the night was real and not a dream, they'd sat there together, Nathan's hand resting on her upper thigh as she leaned into his chest, listening to Sheryl singing and each other breathing.

The last song, on Haley's request, had been "I Shall Believe", the saddest but most hopeful song she could think of. Together, she and Nathan had danced, slow and steady with barely an inch between them, and it had been the first night Haley could remember that she hadn't wanted to end. Later that school year, after Lucas and Brooke had begged her to return to Tree Hill, it had been hearing the song on the radio that led her back to Nathan's doorstep: _that I only come home when I'm so all alone._

When she'd finished singing, Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but as she watched his face, she could see the words fail him. He reached up and drew her closer, the water on his skin soaking her shirt, but the kiss he pulled her into instantly made her ignore that. It was the first time they'd kissed since the accident, and it made her want to believe so much: that they could overcome this, that Nathan could come out of this with his strength and dignity still intact, that a marriage that had bent under the weight of so much but stayed unbroken could survive this, too.

There were so many things that kiss made her want to believe in, and she chose to believe in every single one.


End file.
